


Family

by kunstvogel



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family, Fluff, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Insecurity, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-14 14:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13009455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunstvogel/pseuds/kunstvogel
Summary: Dick and Lew celebrate Thanksgiving with Dick’s family.





	Family

“You think they’ll like me?”

“Of course. They’re my parents, Lew, if I like you they will too.”

“My parents aren’t like that.”

“Well, your parents aren’t the same as my parents.”

“But-”

“Lew,” Dick sighs. “It’ll be fine. You’re stressing over nothing.” He turns to look at Lew, a reassuring smile on his face. Lew pouts and sinks lower into his seat, hands fidgeting nervously in his lap. “If nothing else, I’m sure Dad will love your pie.”

Lew smirks. “Everyone loves my pies. Especially you.”

“Well, there you go.” After a moment, Dick sits up straighter, peering down the road. “We’re almost there,” he says. “Maybe five minutes.”

“I’m glad I let you drive. This road isn’t even on the map, Dick. When you said you’re from Lancaster I thought you meant the city.” Lew’s point is empathized as a tractor rumbles past their car. “This is a city of corn.”

“I seem to recall telling you I was from Lancaster  _ County _ .”

Lew falls silent, and Dick chuckles. “I promise it’s not as boring as you think,” Dick says. “They’ve got a TV and everything.”

Dick turns onto a gravel driveway, and soon enough, they approach a little white farmhouse tucked between a barn and another cornfield.

“Oh my God, it’s  _ American Gothic, _ ” Lew moans.

“What?”

“The painting.” At Dick’s look of confusion, Lew clarifies: “The one with the farmers? Your house looks like the house in the background.”

“Oh.” Dick shrugs. “I guess so.” He parks the car next to his dad’s pickup truck and pops the trunk, grabbing their bags. Dick’s mother meets them on the porch, immediately wrapping Dick in a hug.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Dick,” she croons, kissing him on the cheek.

“Hi, Mom.” When she’s pulled away, he gestures to Lew, who offers a sheepish smile and wave. “This is Lew.”

“Oh, it’s so good to meet you.” Edith pulls Lew in for a hug as well, and Dick can’t help but snicker at Lew’s terrified expression. He ducks his head after she kisses him as well, flushing.

“Likewise,” he manages to choke out. Edith doesn’t notice his embarrassment, already ushering them inside.

“It’s chilly out,” she says, “so I made you boys some hot apple cider to sip on while the turkey’s cooking. Richard and Ann are in the living room- oh, and Dick, you just show Lewis where everything is, and I’ll get dinner all fixed up.”

“Oh. Um, Mrs. Winters-” Lew starts.

“Just call me Edith, son.”

“R-right. Uh, I brought a pie for everyone. Where should I-?”

“Oh, what an angel you are! Here, I’ll take care of it,” she accepts the proffered pie pan graciously and bustles off into the kitchen, leaving Lew standing in the foyer, overwhelmed.

“I see where you get your restlessness from now, Dick,” Lew says dazedly.

“Mom’s always like this during the holidays. Wait til’ Christmas,” Dick chuckles. “C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

*

Lewis, as it turns out, is a hit with Dick’s family. Edith shares the same dry humor that Dick and Lew are known for, and Lew finds he can talk to Dick’s father about his intellectual interests easily. Ann, he finds, is boyish in a way Lew had always wished his own sister would’ve been. She drags him out to the barn and shows off the cow and the chickens and the beloved family tractor, a relic from the 50s.

At dinner Edith presents a spread nearly as elaborate as the Nixon family dinners had been: there’s turkey, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, glazed carrots, stuffing, and cornbread, all made fresh with local ingredients. Of course, there’s red wine too, but Lew isn’t very fond of wine and doesn’t take more than a polite sip every now and then. He’s surprised to see Dick finish his glass before dessert and ribs him for it.

“I don’t  _ drink, _ Lew,” Dick insists. “It’s just a formal thing.”

Lew has the good sense not to push the issue and helps himself to seconds instead, watching the way Dick flushes and loosens up with the alcohol. When his mother pops the question he’s definitely tipsy.

“So how did you meet Lewis?”

“Oh,” Dick says, smiling happily. “On the train in Chicago, back when I was on vacation there. Lew took the seat next to me and said-”

“ _ Going my way?”  _ Lew smirks as he says it, and Dick laughs.

“Just like that,” he affirms. “And it turned out I  _ was _ going his way, to the Museum of Science and Industry, so we stuck together.”

“Dick’s like a barnacle,” Lew says. “Can’t pull him off. He wouldn’t talk to anyone else if I was there with him.”

Edith smiles. “He was always like that. One-track mind. When he was young he’d only play with Ann.” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “I’m glad you’re happy together,” she says. “I was beginning to worry for Dick.”

“Mom,” Dick chides quietly.

“You were lonely, honey, don’t pretend like you weren’t.” She places her hand over his and smiles. “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Dick’s lips twitch and he nods. Edith pulls back, satisfied, and stands. “Let’s clean this mess up and get dessert out.”

Everyone chips in to clean and put the food away, and for dessert Ann brings out a pumpkin pie and Lew’s French silk pie, which he’d kept hidden from Dick all of the day before. He watches amusedly as Dick’s face lights up at the sight of it.

“I  _ love  _ French silk pie,” Dick says.

“I know you do. Happy Thanksgiving, Dick.” Lew smiles and Dick pecks him on the cheek gratefully.

*

"Dick," Lew moans, "I think I ate too much."   
  
By now it’s late and they're both settled into Dick's old room for the night, suitcases on top of the vanity, folded clothes for tomorrow set out neatly. Dick has just come out of the shower, dressed in his pajamas and flushed red for it. His hair is damp, and he's set to combing it back over his scalp with his fingers.   
  
Dick turns to look at Lew. He's curled on his side on the bed, cheeks ruddy and face stricken, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. "I told you to slow down," Dick says. At Lew's pitiful expression he softens. "Aw, c'mere, big guy." He forfeits taming his hair in favor of joining Lew on the bed. Dick pulls him close, combs his fingers through Lew's hair and kisses his forehead.   
  
"It was all just so good," Lew says forlornly. "I couldn't help myself. And now I can't enjoy it anymore."   
  
Dick chuckles. "You'll be fine, Lew. There's plenty of leftovers."   
  
"'S not the same that way." Dick slips a hand under Lew's shirt and palms the swell of his stomach curiously. Lew whimpers, squirming. "Hurts."   
  
"You really overdid it, huh?" Dick lightens his touch so his fingers are just grazing Lew's skin, tracing lazy circles around his swollen middle. Lew doesn't reply. He lets his eyes fall shut and nudges his face up against Dick's.   
  
"I feel gross," he mumbles after a period of silence. "Fat."   
  
"Well, you're not," Dick says. He pecks Lew's nose. "And anyway, I like you just fine no matter what."   
  
"Cause I bake you pies, right?" Lew cracks one eye open, smirking. Dick cuffs him gently.   
  
"You know I like you for more than that, Lew." Dick smiles, that soft one he reserves just for Lew, and Lew feels sentimental all of a sudden. The self-consciousness he's quietly wrestled with for most of his life always dissipates when he's around Dick; Dick doesn't care what Lew looks like or how embarrassing he can be at times. He doesn't care about any of that at all. Lew’s always grateful for that.   
  
"Yeah," Lew says. "I love you, Dick."   
  
"I love you too." Dick smiles, rubbing Lew's stomach in earnest now. "Feeling better?"   
  
Lew nods sleepily. "M-hmm. Thanks."   
  
Dick smiles, satisfied, and leans down to press a light kiss there. "A kiss makes it all better," he says.   
  
"You're so embarrassing," Lew groans, blushing as Dick peels his clothes off and sets to kissing every inch of him reverently, moving from his stomach up to his chest and jaw, pausing to suckle at the point just under his ear. His palm still skates in slow circles around Lew's stomach.   
  
Lew loves it when Dick does this, but he can't help feeling shy under such intense attention. He focuses on kissing Dick instead, pulling his mouth up to his own and drinking from Dick's lips. He thinks about their first kiss, in Dick’s hotel room three days after they met, and remembers the conversation at dinner.

“How come your mom said you were lonely?” Lew asks when they break apart for air. Dick’s brows furrow in confusion.

“At dinner,” Lew clarifies. “She said you were lonely before you met me. How was that possible? You’re so friendly to everyone.”

“Is that all you’ve been thinking about?”

“No, it just caught me by surprise.”

Dick sighs. “I don’t really fit in here,” he says. “There’s a way people are supposed to be, out here, and it isn’t me. I- well, there was a girl.”

“Oh.”

“I thought I was in love with her. But I wasn’t, not how it counted, and she knew it. It didn’t end well.” Dick falls silent for a moment. “She outed me,” he says. “To the whole town.”

“Jesus,” Lew breathes. “That’s awful.” His own family doesn’t know. They’d disown him if they did. He can’t imagine what Dick must have gone through.

“Yeah. Mom and Dad were shocked, but they support me. I was so scared they wouldn’t. It felt like I couldn’t breathe, whenever I went out. Everyone knew. So I went to Chicago.” Dick smiles. “And I met you.”

“I’m glad I decided to sit by the ginger on the train,” Lew says. “Who knows who else might’ve stolen your heart away.”

Dick scoffs. “There weren’t any other seats in the car. Where else would you have sat?”

“Well, I could’ve used the handrail.”

“You were drunk,” Dick chuckles. “You would’ve fallen into someone’s lap.”

“It could’ve been your lap. Christ, what a meet-cute that’d make. ‘He was shitfaced and fell into my lap. I love him, Mom.’ Imagine your mother’s dismay.”

“I think she’d understand,” Dick says. “You’re charming when you’re tipsy. You could’ve sweet-talked me into anything, falling into my lap or not.”

“Aw, don’t sell yourself short. You’re completely immune to anyone else’s charm.”

“True,” Dick hums. “You’re special, Lew.” He kisses him soundly. “I wouldn’t give you up for the world.”


End file.
